


A Hand to Hold

by mosylu



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: 3x02 promo inspired, F/M, Funerals, Grieving, could be read as romantic or bromantic honestly, look this is not a happy fun times fic ok, someone's got to be there for him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 03:59:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8235308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosylu/pseuds/mosylu
Summary: Cisco's always been there for her. Now it's her turn - if she only knew what to do.





	

Caitlin entered the church quietly, just behind a large family group who were talking and weeping, so that everyone was looking at them and not her. She wondered if they were Cisco’s cousins or friends or neighbors or what.

She tucked herself into a back pew, very aware that she was one of the few white women there. She looked up the aisle, at the casket, at the picture of Dante with his bright, bright grin and the floral arrangements that frothed around it, filling the air of the church with the heavy, throat-catching scent of mourning.

She searched until she spotted Cisco, in the front row, his head drooping like a picked flower. He was wearing a suit and his hair was tied back. The little slice she could see of his cheek looked pale and drawn.

She got up and moved until she was sitting in a spot where she could see him more easily.

Shock seemed to reverberate in the air. _So young. So gifted. Such a tragedy._

And under that - _The Flash should have saved him._

Caitlin wrenched her memories away from that awful day. She’d already gone over it and over it, watching and listening to the recordings until she could have recreated them from scratch. Still, even with that much replay, she was never quite fast enough to shut them off at the end, to cut off Cisco’s anguished cry.

She just couldn’t seem to work out how it could have gone differently. All she knew for sure was that Barry thought he should have saved Dante, and Cisco thought so too.

She wasn’t sure what she thought.

Just that Cisco didn’t deserve this.

Just before the start of the service, she spotted the Wests in a pew midway up - Joe and Wally in matching dark suits, shockingly similar from the back, and Iris in a beautiful black dress and hat - but she didn’t change seats again. She wouldn’t have been able to see Cisco from that vantage point anyway.

He moved easily in the rhythms and motions of the Mass, even though he’d left the church long ago. Did your body ever forget the language of God, even when you weren’t on speaking terms anymore?

She sat and stood and knelt when everyone else did, but she kept her hands folded in her lap or on the back of the pew as everyone around her crossed themselves, and she listened quietly as they prayed aloud. She couldn’t help feeling that it would be some kind of disrespectful to do these things if they didn’t belong to her. She looked at her hands, mouthing the Kaddish under the rising and falling tones of the Catholic prayers.

Surely that would be all right.

“And now the brother of the deceased, Cisco Ramon, would like to say a few words.”

He stood. As far back as she was, she could see his hands shaking as he walked up to the podium. He stared at the microphone for several seconds, his mouth trying to shape words.

It went on so long that people started to shift and whisper, and the priest looked like he was going to get up, maybe put his hand on Cisco’s shoulder.

Caitlin found herself on her feet, striding up the aisle. People turned to look at her, their faces questioning. She barely noticed. Cisco had looked up and was watching her come toward him.

She stopped in between the first rows of pews, holding his gaze. She thought, _What should I do? What do you need me to do right now?_

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and said into the microphone, “My brother was always something special.”

She stood for a few more sentences, holding his eyes. Tears trickled down his face, but he didn’t look away from her. He was a little too close to the microphone, so it caught every popped p and hissed s and _hwaaaah_ of breath, and he read as if he was learning words while he was saying them. But he didn’t stop.

She started to feel awkward, standing there, and she took a few steps to the side, dropping into the pew where he’d sat. His gaze followed. He gave the whole eulogy directly to her. It was partially in Spanish so she didn’t understand everything, but she clutched her knees and looked back at him, trying to send strength to him, just to get him through this. Just to get him through this whole terrible day.

He came down the steps again, and she realized he’d finished, and also that she was in his seat. Maybe she should go back to her own?

But he put his hand on her shoulder, and it was heavy, so heavy. She stayed while he wedged himself in between her and his mother, who looked at Caitlin as if she were a stranger even though they’d met at least twice. But Caitlin thought that probably everyone was a stranger to Paulina Ramon today.

Once he was settled, Cisco took her hand. His grip hurt. She squeezed back and it loosened, and he leaned into her side infinitesimally.

They let go of each other once, when he had to get up to go to Communion. She folded her legs back under the pew to let the family members climb past her, looking at her lap to avoid the curious, judgemental eyes. She wasn’t here for them anyway. She was here for him.

At the cemetery, he carried the casket. Even though there were five other pallbearers, he looked as if the whole weight of it was digging into his shoulder. When he could set it down at last, he came to her side, and she put her arm around his waist so he could rest against her.

She saw him looking around, for a tall, lanky figure maybe. When he didn’t see what wasn’t there to be seen, he looked back at the casket, his jaw tight. She squeezed his side.

When it was over and the casket had sunk into the earth, there was a sort of communal sigh as everyone let go of the duties for the dead. The grouping around the grave started to break up, people discussing directions to the Ramon house. She could see the Wests, moving toward them.

He didn’t seem to. He turned to her and flung his arms around her, pulling her tight into his body. She tucked her face against his hair, smoothing her hands down his back, blinking away tears.

“You didn’t have to come,” he whispered to her.

She tightened her arms around him, as if she could fuse the broken pieces of him back together with pressure alone. “Don’t say stupid things.”

FINIS


End file.
